Figlina Rosa et Fons Juventatis
by Cristalelle
Summary: FemHarry/TMR Rosy Potter is an orphan, but she's much more than that. She is the Girl-Who-Lived, the savior of the wizarding world. Between the handsome and famous Lord Slytherin, the annoying but beautiful professor Dulac and her parent's murderer, the Dark Pharao, Rosy will meet a lot of interesting people during her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
1. Chapter 1: Survivor

**Figlina Rosa Chronicles**

_Book 1_: Figlina Rosa et Fons Juventatis

_Chapter 1_: Survivor

The inhabitants of Wisteria Walk, Little Whinging, Surrey were quite fond of gossiping. One might even be so bold as to declare it their favourite activity, before, even, watching TV or making sure their garden bested those of their neighbours. So, when that odd Mrs Figg had first appeared in their very normal street, these exemplary british citizens had naturally started talking and spreading rumours. Most of them, such as the one pretending that Mrs Figg was, in fact a previous _Mister_ Figg or the one declaring that Mrs Figg was actually a special agent working for the USSR, were completely unfounded. However, there were quite a few _uncommon_ facts about Mrs Figg that no one could deny and all agreed to say that she was, indeed, very strange.

Mrs Arabella Doreen Figg was a small woman with long grey hair in her late fifties, used to wearing a faded scottish dressing gown and fluffy pink and green slippers – even in the street - and, as far as anyone knew, was unemployed. Some pretended that she was a retired librarian, which would explain her solitary attitude, but no one had ever been able to prove it. She was either unmarried or a widow, because no one had ever seen a man with her and surely, a woman of her generation wouldn't have divorced, would she? No children had ever made an appearance on her porch and she had never received any visit. Her only company, as far as anyone could tell, was her cats.

And Dear Lord did she have cats! No one had ever been able to give the correct number, but there must have been at the very least fifteen of them. And the things bred! Mrs Figg had all sorts of cats, some were big and fat, others were small and thin, some had barely any hair on them and others had so much hair that one couldn't be too sure that one was indeed looking at a cat and not a fox or a rat or whatever else; some had many colors, others were all black or striped...as stated before, all sorts of cats, and Mrs Figg talked to them! She told them of her day and asked them questions. None of them had ever answered, of course, but Mysteria Walk's inhabitants did not want to point it out to their odd neighbour for fear of her reaction. Who knew, she could be revealed to possess violent tendencies.

No matter how many extravagant rumours had been produced about Mrs Figg, none ever came close to the truth. Indeed, the truth was so unreal that, no matter their inclination toward exaggerated, outlandish gossiping, no one among Mysteria Walk's respected dwellers would have been able to believe it. For Mrs Figg was more than just odd. She came from a completly different world, a hidden world, a world of magic. Yes, magic was real and Mrs Figg's parents had both been magic wielders. A witch and a wizard. But Mrs Figg had been born a squib, a non-magical child of two magic users. As such, Mrs Figg had been forced to live in the muggle – magicless - world from the time she had reached her majority. Mrs Figg had never quite been able to adapt to the lack of supernatural activities, which explained some of her oddities.

When Mrs Figg awoke on the All Saint's Day's morning that marked this story's beginning, the sky was full of big dark grey clouds that obstructed the already weak winter sunlight. She could not even begin to guess as she opened her shutters on this apparently perfectly normal november day that it was, in fact, anything but a normal day for the wizarding community.

Following her routine, she envelopped herself with her mother's old dressing gown, slipped on her warm and cozy slippers before undoing her rollers and brushing her hair. She then went down into the kitchen and fed her cats, not without petting each one of them extensively as they greeted her by rubbing themselves against her legs. Careful not step on anyone's tail or paw, Arabella then prepared her tea – with a drop of gin – and toasted a few slices of bread which she covered with a strange mixture of jam and honey. Taking her well deserved breakfast over to the table, she sat in a comfy chair and started to eat.

Suddenly, a sharp _knock knock knock_ was heard against her living room's window. She put her half eaten toast down and went to investigate the noise, a few cats following after her. A brown owl was waiting for her, perched precariously on the windowsill. As though such an occurence was perfectly normal – and, knowing what we now know about Arabella Figg's background, it probably _was_ normal to her – she all naturally opened the window and let the bird fly in. Seeing a paper roll attached to its leg, Arabella untied the thread, took the roll and gave a few strange silver coins to the animal which left after receiving the money.

Back to her breakfast and her comfy chair, Mrs Figg unrolled her package, revealing a strange newspaper with moving pictures. This was when Mrs Figg got her first clue that this day was going to be anything but normal. Indeed, upon viewing the paper's headline, Mrs Figg violently spat her gin spiked tea out, watering a few of her precious cats who were quite unhappy with her. Mrs Figg, however, did not notice her now wet cats ire. She was far too focused on what she was reading.

_**DARK PHARAO DEFEATED!**_

_ It is with the greatest happiness and honor that this reporter reports that the Egyptian Dark Lord who has been tyrranising wizarding Europe for the last decade and a half has finally been defeated. _

_ As though such an event wasn't miraculous enough on its own, the process through which the Dark Pharao was vanquished is truly extraordinary! _

_ It has been confirmed by both the great Albus Dumbledore, slayer of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and our very respected Minister of Magic Helena Bagnold that Lord Sesostris went to kill the Potter family, residing in Godric's Hollow, yesterday evening and never came back. It saddens this reporter to be the bearer of sad news on such a wonderful day, but unfortunately, he must announce that the Potter couple, James Charlus and Lily Daisy, did not survive this night._

Arabella gasped. She had known the Potters and had been particularly fond of Lily who was always such darling. Learning that she was _gone_... felt unreal, even more so than the rest of the article.

_ However, their little fifteen months old girl called Rosy – short for Rosemary – survived. In fact, she did more than just _ survive,_ as she is reportedly the one who vanquished the Dark Lord! _

_ "From what we were able to discover, Lord Sesostris killed both James and Lily Potter before attempting to murder their daughter. In that, he failed. We don't know how or why, but when he cast the killing curse on little Rosy, the curse was reflected and struck Sesostris instead. The only damage sustained by Rosemary Potter is a lighting bolt shaped scar on her forhead." Minister Bagnold declared to the press this morning. _

_ This reporter would like to encourage anyone reading this article to drink to this little girl's happiness and bless her name. To Rosy Potter!_

As Mrs Figg tried to process the incredible information given by the paper by cleaning her dishes, a sudden _Crack_ resounded behind her. Jumping in shock, a hand over her pounding heart, she turned and stared at the man who had just appeared out of thin air right in the middle of her kitchen.

It was a good thing that none of Mrs Figg's neighbours would ever have to see this individual because one of them would have most certainly called the proper authorities dealing with insane and potentially dangerous, characters.

The mysterious man was tall and thin and, judging from his waist length silver hair and beard, appeared to be very old. He had piercing blue eyes which sparkled behind crescent shaped glasses and his hooked nose looked like it had been broken at least twice. He wore a long midnight blue robe matched quite horribly to a bright orange cape brushing the floor and a pair of high heeled boots adorned with gleaming silver buckles. All in all, the wrinkled man looked like a loony.

Mrs Figg, however, did not seem to think him a crazy, dangerous character, as she relaxed immediatly after seeing who had just appeared in her home. She obviously knew him.

"Professor Dumbledore! What a surprise to see you here on such a day!" she exclaimed.

Albus Dumbledore, since it was him that had just appeared in Mrs Figg's kitchen, gave her a gentlemanly smile before speaking.

"- My dear Arabella, good morning to you. I assume you are aware, then, of what happened last night?

- I just received the Prophet. Tell me, Albus, is what it says true? Are the Potters...

- They are dead, yes, he answered sadly, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

- And what they say about Rosy... Is _this_ true as well? It sounds so... unbelievable!

- Yes, Arabella, it is true as well. Little Rosy Potter did defeat Lord Sesostris", Dumbledore admitted gravely.

- It's true!" Mrs Figg exclaimed.

- After everything that man did!After all the people he killed...after all the wars... and he failed to kill a little girl! It's astounding...You-Know-Who is the only one who ever succeeding in stopping him..._How_ was Rosy able to survive?!

- We can only guess, Dumbledore answered . We might never know.

- True, true, muttered Mrs Figg. But, Albus, why are you here? You must be very busy on such a day, after all. Why visit me? She asked, confused.

- Ah, but you see, my dear, I am here precisely because of what happened last night, Dumbledore declared, increasing Mrs Figg's confusion.

- What do I have to do with this?!

- Personnaly, nothing. However, you... Dumbledore hesitated, lost in thought. Tell me, what do you know of Lily's family? He finally asked, seemingly randomly.

- Oh, well, she told me a little. Both Lily's parents died in a train accident about a year ago and she had an older sister, but they were estranged. That's all I can think of.

- And that is enough. Lily did, indeed, have a sister, Petunia. And, you see, she is now Rosy's guardian.

- I still fail to see what this has to do with me, professor.

- Petunia Evans married Vernon Dursley three years ago, Arabella, and both of them moved to a nice litlle town called Little Whinging, in Surrey."

Mrs Figg's eyes grew wide as her confusion dissipated and a wave of sudden understanding flooded her. Little Rosy Potter, savior of the wizarding world, was going to live there, in her town, and she was the only inhabitant she knew of who had regular contacts with the magical world. Petunia Dursley most certainly stopped having anything to do with magic when she stopped talking to her sister and Albus would need to ensure the little girl's safety.

"You want me to keep an eye on her, don't you?" She asked Albus.

Dumbledore nodded.

" - Yes, and I want you to tell me if you notice anything abnormal about her. As no one has ever been known to survive the curse, we do not know if it will have long term consequences on her health. Please make sure she is well and safe, Arabella.

- Of course, Albus. It will be a pleasure. But where do the Dursleys live?

- Not too far, actually, Albus answered pleasantly. They live on Privet Drive, number four.

- Privet Drive? It's just two streets from here!

- Precisely. Quite a happy coincidence, wouldn't you say? Inquired Dumbledore with a small smile and a mischievous twinkle lighting his bright blue eyes. Well! I must be off, I do have quite a lot to do, today. Arabella, good day", he saluted before disappearing with a loud _Crack._

Mind reeling, Mrs Figg mechanically went back to her dishes, not noticing the angry wet cat in her way before she stepped on its tail. What followed was a loud pained cry, followed by sharp claws meeting the flesh of Mrs Figg's bare calf and another, louder, pained cry, making the oblivious inhabitants of Wisteria Walk shake their heads at Crazy Figg's loonacy.

* * *

It had been nearly seven years since the Dursleys had found their niece on their doorstep and Little Whinging had not changed. It was still made up of the same residential districts and small supermarkets. Privet Drive's houses were identical to Wisteria Walk's and the only thing that allowed distinction between each house was the number plate on the door and the small gardens.

The same kind of people lived there. The close-minded, respectable, hard-working and absolutely normal kind. Little Whinging had never known criminality or accidents. It was, truth be said, a very peaceful and boring town. There had never been anything interesting to see. And yet...

And yet, Rosy Potter, _the_ Rosy Potter, lived there, on the fourth, Privet Drive in Mr and Mrs Dursley's house. Not that anyone would have been able to tell by observing the inside of the house. As the sun rose higher on this particular morning, its rays lit the Dursleys rooms and their furniture, revealing an impressive amount of pictures of a fat and rather ugly little boy. Wether he was ensconced in his overbearing horse faced mother's arms – Mrs Dursley – or sat before a computer with his whale-like father beaming proudly standing beside him, the little boy – Dudley Dursley - was the only child present in the pictures. In fact, nothing, in any room, indicated that a little girl also lived there. However, even though she was still sleeping, Rosy Potter _did_ live here.

" Up! Get up now girl!"

Rosy awoke to the shrill voice of her aunt coming through the door of her bedroom.

" Hurry and get up!" Petunia yelled once more, before going back to the kitchen, her footsteps echoing through the otherwise silent house.

Yawning, Rosy slowly sat up on her matress. Awkwardly, still half-asleep, she looked for her socks. She found one them under her pillow and the other at the foot of her bed. She put them on before taking off her uncle's old shirt which had now become her night gown. Reaching on the right side of her bed, she grabbed her T-shirt and jeans, and, after shaking them to make sure no spider was in them, she got dressed. Rosy was used to spiders. The cupboard under the stairs was full of them. And that was where she slept.

When she got to the kitchen, Rosy noticed that the table was buried under a mountain of gifts. Dudley's birthday! How could she have forgotten?! He'd been prancing around all week waiting for it!

" Finally! You're here! Go and cook the eggs and the bacon, girl. I've got enough to do on my own witout you being lazy!" Petunia snapped from her place next to the oven where a cake had just finished baking.

Not saying anything, Rosy complied. A few minutes later, Dudley entered the kitchen with his father. While Vernon sat himself on his chair, his son went straight to the gifts and started ripping their wrapping eagerly. Several new computer games were revealed and a set of tin soldier made Rosy drool with envy. _She_ had never received any gift.

As Petunia put the burnt chocolate cake on the now gift-free table, the phone rang. Vernon got up – a feat worthy of admiration as he moved very rarely and only when he had to – and went to get it. He came back looking furious.

" - Bad news, Pet. Mrs Figg has a doctor appointment and cannot watch the girl.

- What?! Screamed Petunia, outraged.

- Why didn't she say anything sooner?

- According to her, she forgot.

- That crazy old goat! What are we going to do now?! Petunia yelled.

- We have no choice. We have to take her with us", said Vernon, upset.

Rosy froze. Take her with them? To the park?! For real? Wonder filled her heart and a burning hope made her breath hitch in her throat. She had never gotten to do anything close to fun with the Dursleys. Going to the parc – even if she didn't get to try any of the games – would still be much better than doing chores or stay with Crazy Figg where she would do nothing more than look at cat pictures. She shuddered. Definitely better, as long as Dudley forgot her.

When Dudley was bored, he used his cousin as his personal toy. Most of the time, Rosy, who was much thinner than him was also faster and succeded in escaping him, but when he caught her...it was hell! He pulled her hair, kicked her, pushed her down, kicked her some more, ripped her clothes... All of which made her achy – very achy – and _dirty_.

_ Dirty_. Now that was a thing aunt Petunia hated. Anything _dirty_ did not belong in her house, her niece included and her son excluded – as it was well-known that Dyddikins could not get dirty anyway.

There were a lot of things that Petunia hated. Dirt was just one of them. Beggars, loonys, abnormality - Rosy did not really know what the word meant, but it must be important because, according to her aunt, Rosy had a lot of _abnormality – _foreigners, adventurers, Mrs Kingchurch and her perfect flowers were others. And appart from being Mrs Kingchurch or her flowers, Rosy was all of the things that aunt Petunia did not like. That was why, according to her guardians, Rosy had to sleep in the cupboard. Because she was an _unsavory individual – _she did not know what that meant either.

Of course, living with the Dursleys wasn't all bad. Yes, she had chores to do and got beaten up by Dudley once in awhile, but none of the elder Dursleys ever hit her. Her punishments were just lack of food for a day at most and being stuck in the cupboard for just as long.

But when her chores were done and she wasn't being punished, Rosy was allowed to go to the library and borrow books. Rosy loved books. They were great! She could learn all sorts of things in them, like algebra – she loved maths – and history. But the best of the best were the novels! The ones with magic in them. Of course, she never took _those_ back home, because magic was _abnormal_ and her aunt would have cancelled her subscription to the library if she'd been caught reading such things. But still, the risk was worth it, in Rosy's opinion. Because magic was cool!

"Girl!" a yell pulled her out of her thoughts. Rosy looked up to uncle Vernon, who was standing next to the door. "Come on, we don't have all day!"

Rosy realised that she'd been daydreaming longer than she thought. The Dursleys were already in the car, and were waiting for her. Eyes widening at her inatention, she hurried and ran out the door before getting to the car. That was when she realised she would have to spend the entire ride sitting next to Dudley. Rosy bit back a discomfited moan and got in the car.

* * *

" ... _Madmen_! Motorcycles ought to be forbidden!" yelled Vernon, who was driving the car, when a rider passed them on the left side of the road and not on the right.

On this sunny June day, the motorway was crowded and Vernon was angry. More so than usual, at any rate. He'd started complaining the moment he'd left home, but things had only gotten worse when he'd seen how many people were on the road.

It was the first time Rosy had been on a motorway, and the M25, so close to London, was impressive. She had looked up a map in the library a few days before to see how the Dursleys would go to Chessington Parc of Adventure and had seen the name of the motorway there. She had not known back then that she would actually get to see it with her own eyes.

"Ouch!" She screamed painfully as Dudley kicked her hard in the knee.

Surprised, Vernon gave a sudden jerk on the wheel, sending the car on the right, just as a truck passed by. Terrified, Rosy's eyes widdened before she felt pain. She stopped breathing, her whole body being squeezed and she felt herself being ripped apart. Or so she thought. Because one moment she was in the car and the next, the horrible sensation had stoped, and she was on the grassy side of the road, not a scratch on her. And alone.

Looking straight ahead, a scream escaped her lips and tears pooled in her eyes. The Dursleys car was a mess. It had been completly crushed by the truck and broken glass layed on the pavement. But the worst was the blood. It was everywhere. On the road, on the car, inside of it and...

Rosy closed her eyes and turned away. She did not want to see it! She felt a burning sensation in her stomach and bent down before throwing up. Sobs started raking her body and, in shock, not understanding what had just happened – or maybe understanding it too well – she sat down and cried. Alone.

* * *

It was a week later, after being released from the hospital and after the official papers pertaining to her guardianship had been dealt with, that Rosy stood before her new "home", in Whitechapel, London."Lady Diana's Orphan Asylum" read the big red plate on the roof.

None of the Dursleys had survived the accident and Rosy's case had been dubed as miraculous. No one knew how she'd gotten out of car, not even Rosy herself. All she knew was that she had survived, once more. And that for the first time of her life, she truly felt like an orphan.

**Author note: I would like to point out that english is not my birth language, and although I think that I speak it quite well, I would like to ask if you could point out anything that sound odd and tell me why. That way, I will be able to correct my mistakes. If you want to know where I'm from...check my profile... Because, to be honest, I told someone, once, where I was from in a review to correct a mistake said person made when writing in may birth language and he/she did not believe me... See if I help again... _sigh_**

**Otherwise, the name of the series "Fligina Rosa" is, as most of you will have guessed, latin. It means "Potter's Rose". I just wanted something more original than "Rose Potter and the blah blah blah..." Don't ask me why I chose latin, though... It just sounded cool, mysterious, magical... So, latin it is. **

**I also have a plot, a complex one based on a new background and a new dark lord. In most FemHarry/TMR pairings, Grindelwald is alive, but I think that this is too easy and takes some of the intrigue's interest away, because we already know a lot about Grindelwald. So here you go, meet your new Big Bad, the Dark Pharao Sesostris.**

**I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter and that you will, yes you guessed it, reviewwww. **

**Good day to all!**

**Cristalelle.**


	2. Chapter 2: Abnormality

**Figlina Rosa Chronicles**

_Book 1_: Figlina Rosa et Fons Juventatis

_Chapter 2_: Abnormality

Despite Rosemary's initial apprehension, her life in the orphanage turned out to be quite similar to the one she lived at the Dursleys. It might even be a bit better; for now, she had a _room_. A real one, cramped and spartan, yes, but still a room with actual furniture.

The paint of the dark grey walls flaked away and the floor's dirty white carpeting had threads sticking out of it like tufts of hair refusing to lie flat. Standing shakily against the severe right wall of the bedroom was the bed. It's metal skeletton was frail and narrow and the springs of its base could be felt through the thin mattress. However, the covers were warm and the pillow very cozy. Under the window, facing the door, a small wooden desk and a chair were the first things one saw when coming in. One of the desk's legs had been broken and was now shorter than the rest, but as a slate tile had been placed under it, the desk was stable. Ruling over the rest of the furniture, the iron wardrobe stood tall and proud against the left wall, containing all of Rosy's possessions, from her clothes to her books, including her jewels, hair-ties, toys, etc... It was, in Rosy's opinion, the most important piece of furniture in the confined space that had become her bedroom.

Rosemary had soon found out that being in an orphanage did not mean that she would be free of chores. She still had to do them, but as they were now shared – Dudley had never had to do anything in the house and Petunia had only accomplished the tasks that Rosy had been physically incapable of doing – she had less to do and more free time. Time that she spent in her room, doing her homework or reading books she had borrowed from the orpanage's very own library, Rosemary's second favourite room – her bedroom being the first.

Barely a week after she had first come to _Lady Diana's Orphan Asylum, _named such after an official visit of the Princess of Wales, the other orphans had dubed Rosy Potter a bookworm. While they used their precious free time to go play outside – or in the game room when the weather was unkind – Rosy spent it locked (figuratively speaking as none of the small bedrooms had actual locks) in her room reading or in the library, engrossed in some book she was not allowed to take out. Some of the children had even tried to become her friends, but, so unused was she to friendly conversation that Rosy, with her awkward social skills, had unwillingly come out as an aloof girl with a Hollier-Than-Thou attitude. And so it was that Rosy was, once more, a loner.

Unfortunately for Rosemary, her isolation had soon become a sign for the orphanage's bullies that she was easy prey and she had been targeted. Caroline Shortlad and Emma Summertop, nine and twelve years old respectively, had taken Dudley's place in her life as her personal devils. Once, during her first winter after the car accident, Rosy had lost her coat. Or so she thought, because she had later found out that Caroline had taken it discreetly and thrown it in one of the school's trashbins. Rosy had had to walk back to the orphanage in her thin school uniform under ice cold rain and when she had arrived, she had received her first punishment for losing such an important piece of her wardrobe. The coat had been replaced, but Rosy had not had the right to visit the library for a week and all her books had been confiscated for just as long. The only positive outcome of the ordeal was that she miraculously had not gotten sick.

Following this episode, similar events made themselves more and more frequent until they became an integral part of Rosy's everyday life. The little girl did the only thing she could when faced with this unpleasant situation: she learned to be wary of peoples's intentions, to guard her things jealously, and stopped paying attention to her comrades' endless bullying. Instead, she focused her attention on more productive activities, such as schoolwork and extracuricular intellectual books, resulting in her getting top marks in school and becoming even more ostracized. Not that she cared anymore. Who needed friends, anyway?

For an entire year, Rosy's life kept on following this train of events. However, on her ninth birthday, things took a turn for the worst. If she had thought that the day's particular meaning would earn her any leniency from the other orphans, she had been dreadfully wrong.

The day had begun like any other. Rosy had awoken to the soft rays of the rising sun filtering through the thin white curtains of her open window. It was the last day of July, and the last remnants of the night air were just warm enough for a light breeze to be comfortable and appeasing. As she opened her eyes for the the first time on this particular day, the girl's gaze settled on the semi-transparent cloth hanging before her window, which seemed to be engaged in a loving dance with a gust of flowery summer air. As was her habit, she sat up slowy, her tiny feet barely touching the tired carpeting of the ground, before stretching her arms and rubbing her sleep-heavy eyes.

She grabbed her toilet bag from the iron wardrobe she loved so much and took her bathrobe off its hanger before going to the common girl's bathroom. She took a shower, and because it was her birthday, decided to take care of her hair more than usual. She washed it twice before coating it with a rose scented detangling after-shampoo. When she was done, she wrapped herself in her bathrobe and went back to her room where she got dressed and braided her still wet hair. Then, she got down to the mess hall and ate her breakfast.

It was when she got back to her room that the day started getting bad. She opened the wooden door, which creaked, and came upon a terrible sight. Her desk had been turned upside down and everything that had lied on it was on the floor, broken, riped, or otherwise desecrated. Her four coloured pen had been dismantled and its spring crushed; her precious fountain pen - one of the only gift she had ever received, given to her at the end of the year by her school-teacher who had taken a liking to the smart and quiet little girl - had had its quill twisted, making it useless; her notebook, the one she used to learn extracurricular subjects such as physics and astronomy, had several of its pages riped off and crumpled and the mythology book she had borrowed from the library had been drenched with ink and what she guessed had to be some sort of glue. The whole scene was a disaster.

Rosemary had thought that she had gotten so used to bullying that it would never affect her again. Notwithstanding, she felt her eyes well up with barely contained tears and her throat constrict painfully at the picture of utter devastation that had become her beloved bedroom. Opening her eyes wide, in order to stop the tears from leaving their creators, she sniffled and bent down on the floor to see what could be salvaged and what had to be thrown away. Eventually, as she got caught up in her task, crystaline pearls started hurtling down the mounts and valleys that formed the sides of her face.

Rosy finally succeded in putting her notebook back in workable shape, the riped pages uncrumpled and put back in their original place. The four coloured pen's sprung had not been as damaged as she had first thought and she had put it back in place, making the pen work once more. However, the library book, with its stained and glued pages was a lost case, as for the fountain pen, Rosy had tried unbending the quill but had broken it instead.

Holding back raking sobs as best as she could, she put her desk back in its place, its shortened leg lying once more on the slate tile used to steady it. She then put her pen and her notebook back on it, before grabbing her fountain pen. She hesitated a moment, not really knowing what to do with it, but finally reached a decision. She did not have the heart to throw it away, useless as it was. Sniffling, she layed it next to the four-coloured pen. Only the library book remained.

Briefly but firmly shutting her eyes, she felt a weight settle over her heart as she grabbed the volume and took a deep, painful breath before heading to the library. She would most certainly be punished severly for giving back a book in such deplorable condition. But, she told herself, gathering her courage, she did not have a choice, she _had_ to give it back and the more she waited, the worse her punishment would be. So, she went.

* * *

Two months! Rosemary had been forbidden from borrowing books for _two whole months_! And she had received a double amount of chores for the next week! Rosy, brutal sobs tearing her up, ran fast, blinded by the constant flow of tears that her eyes kept birthing relentlessly. She was only vaguely aware of tumbling down the stairs and making her way in the courtyard, jostling several people in her mad run.

Breath lacking, Rosy took refuge in a centenary yew's shadow. Shaking uncontrolably, pearl-like tears still flowing, she curled up against the enormous trunk, its calm and steadfast strength giving her a semblance of comfort. Rosy had always gone under the yew when she cried; she thought that sitting against it almost felt like being hugged by a parent. Not that she really knew what _that_ felt like.

" Hey, girl! Will you stop this horrible noise already!" She heard suddenly, breaking the train of her calming thoughts and making her jump in surprise.

She looked around her, but saw no one. Confused, she got up and went to look behind the tree, but there again, no one was present.

"- Did someone just speak? She asked, blinking in bewilderment, her sadness forgotten for the time being.

- You understand?! Asked the unknown, but distinctly male, voice.

- Of course I understand! Rosy exclaimed, rather vexed that the voice would think that she was so stupid she could not understand such a simple order.

- No need to snap, child! Respect your elders! I swear the youngs these days...

The voice seemed to sigh.

- Where are you?! Rosy asked, frustated.

- Up there, girl! Up there! In the tree!"

The young orphan froze for a moment before slowly bending her head back and looking through the interlacing of bright green leaves and brown branches. She looked and looked, trying to make out the shape of a man, but there was no one. All she saw were ants crawling up and down the barks of the trunk, carrying heavy loads of leaves ten times as big as they; spiders weaving their webs, three bird nests, a few sparrows and a crow, or a magpie, Rosy corrected herself. It didn't really matter, anyway, as both birds belonged to the same family, the corvidae, her brain provided. Spending time reading _did_ have some advantages.

"Where? I don't see you, she said."

A loud sigh resounded before the sound of flapping wings made Rosy look back at the white and black magpie, which settled itself on a low branch just before her nose. It opened its black beak and said:

"Over there! What? Are you blind?!"

Rosy's eyes widened so much that she wouldn't have been surprised to see them pop out of her skull and her lower jaw dropped while she tried vainly to speak. Was she dreaming? There was just no way this was possible. Animals didn't talk! She would have known if they did!

" - You...you _talk_? She inquired intelligently.

- Obviously! _I_ should be the one asking, you know! A human who can understand me? I've never seen anyting like that before!

- What do you mean, understand you? Aren't we speaking english? I thought we were.

- No! We most certainly are not! Me, speak english? Those awful sounds you humans produce make me think of a duck's tongue! Aweful, I tell you.

Offended, Rosy replied:

- Well, you know, most people don't like to hear crows either. From what I've read, you sound harsh and sometimes ill, like you're throat is hoarse! It's not exactly pleasant!

- Hey there, girl! I will have you know that I am no crow! Those things are idiotic! I am a magpie, smart, and strong, and noble, and handsome, and...

- Yes, I get it! Anyway, how come I can understand you? Do you know?

- Ha! See? Even _you_ recognise my superior brain, asking me things you don't know!

Rosy rolled her eyes. The magpie might be many things but humble, he was not!

- Well? Do you know, or not?

- I have my suspicions, the bird responded.

- Your suspicions?

- Yes, my suspicions, girl. As I've never heard of anyone like you before, I can only make guesses..."

The magpie paused, and looked looked intently at Rosy with small, black and orange eyes. Rosy accepted the examination and kept silent, waiting eagerly for the _corvidae_ to continue.

" - Aren't you going to ask? The bird spoke , suddenly.

- Ask what? Rosy replied, baffled.

- What my guess is, of course! The magpie snapped.

- Well, what is it?"

The magpie straightened up and raised his head high, making himself look important. He opened his wings and batted them a few times, making dust fall from his feathers, before folding them once more. Then, he spoke.

" - You have magic!

- Magic? That's it? Magic doesn't even exist! Rosy exclaimed.

- Neither do people who can talk to birds!The magpie snapped.

- But, but... If magic's real... And if I have it... Why did I never notice?!

- Because you didn't believe in it! Now, excuse me, but I must go! I need to put some good, jucy worms in my belly! You've exhausted me and now, I'm hungry!"

And, suddenly, the cranky old magpie was gone.

* * *

Following the odd meeting, Rosemary had put quite a lot of thought to the birds words. He had said that had never noticed magic because she didn't believe in it, not that she had never _performed_ magic. It was this conclusion that had led the eight year old girl to try to remember any strange, unexplainable happenings in her life. And she realized that there was quite a lot of those. Too much to be coincidental.

As she was forbidden to borrow any books, Rosy spent her summer writing any mysterious event of her past in her notebook. The first one that came to mind was the most prominent one: her disappearance from the Dursleys car during the deadly accident. It had never been explained, and she, herself, had never known how she had ended up on the side of the motorway. It should not have been possible, as two lines plus a barrier had been between the car and the verge. Not to mentioned the cars on the two other lines of the road. It must have been magic! There was no other explanation.

She also remembered other events, like the time her aunt had shaved her head because she had had enough of taking care of her unmanageable hair. Her hair had been back to normal on the next morning, and as aunt Petunia had not mentioned anything, Rosy had thought that she had dreamed the event. Now, she was sure it had been real.

There had also been that one time, when Dudley's friend, Piers Polkiss, had tried to beat her up on his own. She had looked him in the eyes and told him "Leave me alone! Go away and leave me alone!" And he had done just as she said. She thought he might have been bored of her, or that a teacher had been nearby, but it was very unlikely. She did not know what she had done, exactly, but she knew, she just knew it had to be magic!

The years passed, and Rosy learned. She learned to do magic consciously, at first trying to reproduce what she knew she could do because she had already done it. After all, the magpie had said she had never noticed magic because she didn't believe in it, so, faith must have an important role in magic.

The first thing she became capable of was changing her appearance at will. It was startingly easy, almost natural. She just had to concentrate and _want_, and her body morphed. At first she had only changed her hair, made it longer or shorter and making it change colours. But soon, and with practice, she was able to change the shape of her eyes, nose and ears. And then it was the jaw and the hands and, at last, her whole body.

When she had mastered that skill, she had put her mind to try and command others. But it was much more difficult. No matter how many times she looked a person in the eyes and commanded them, there was never any effect. Frustrated, she had, one day, come across a cat which kept on following her when she went to school and came back from it. Since her first day in the the care of the Dursley's old neighbour, Mrs Figg, she had taken a great dislike of the small felines. So when the cat went to rub itself against her legs, she snapped at it and told him " Get away, furball!". And the cat had left.

Something had clicked in her brain, that day. She had felt her magic reaching out for the animal's mind, when she commanded him. And it was logical! She had never had to externalize her magic, before, as changing her appearance only affected _her_, and nothing else. And, from that day onward, she was able to command Caroline Shortlad and Emma Summertop to leave her alone. The bullying she went through lessened considerably.

Her manipulation of other people's minds had had a rather curious consequence. She had found herself capable of feeling one's emotions, of knowing when someone lied or kept things from her. That particular skill did not require eye contact or any kind of conscious effort and soon became a very useful sixth sense.

She had long deduced that she had gotten out of the Dursley's car through some kind of teleportation. And, knowing what she did about the way magic worked, she had succeded to reproduce the effect. She had to focus hard on her destination, to picture it clearly in her mind, before concentrating her magic both _in _and _out_ of her and _want_ to be in the destination. She then felt squeezed in a tube and appeared where she wanted to be. She was ten and a half, by the time she achieved this feat.

She had, in the meantime, discovered two other of her abilities: she could move things without touching them, and magpies, or crows, as she could also talk with those, were not the only animals she spoke the tongue of. She could also speak to snakes, as she had found out during a visit to the zoo, where a black mamba had told her that he would do about anything to get is fangs in a jucy little rabbit.

* * *

A man wearing a rich silk tailored black suit, his long curly jet-black hair fastened in an elegant low ponytail at the base of his neck walked down Gowers Walk, in Witechapel, London. He was a handsome and obviously rich man with deep black eyes, full lips and aristocratic features and looked quite out of place with his luxurious clothes. All about his appearance, from his stance to his expression, screamed power. He obviously belonged to those sort of people used to giving orders and having them followed without question.

He observed the old and dirty brick buildings with distaste and once more internally cursed Albus Dumbledore for sending him to this disgusting place. He had not been here in forty-six years and would not have come back if it had not been for the old man. His lower lip curled in repugnance and rememberance.

"_Tom, you must be the one to go. After all, your experiences are similar. You even went to the same orphanage! You will be the one to understand her best! Please, go to her. You know how important she is."_ Dumbledore had told him, his blue eyes half pleading, half-commanding him to go. And although he loathed to admit it, Tom had had no choice but to agree.

Suddenly, Tom Riddle, for that was the handsome man's name, stoped and stared at a building he wished he never had to see again. The name had changed, he noticed. "Wool's Orphanage" had now become "Lady Diana's Orpan Asylum", and the orphange had obviously undergone some renovations, but not enough to be unrecognisable.

Pressing his lips together and grinding his teeth, seething at what he was being forced to do, Tom crossed the courtyard where a few children who had been busy playing and runing around, looked at him with hope in their eyes. Tom ignored them, groaning in anger, and sped up, his long legs allowing him to take big strides.

On this particular day, Saturday 22nd July, 1991, the sun shone high in the sky and the air was warm. It was, then, no wonder that the entrance door was wide open. Tom did not bother knocking and just entered the building without slowing down. Quickly, he arrived to his destination, the orphanage's director's office.

The door was closed, this time, and he was forced to knock. He heard the noise of a chair sliding against the floor, followed by steps and the door opened.

"Yes?" A frail looking blond-haired woman answered.

The woman, in her late forties, must have once been atractive, Tom thought. But her face full of small wrinkles and her big blue eyes covered wit far too much make up took away any charm she might have had otherwise.

" - Goodmorning, Mrs Pignouf, I believe?

- Yes, it's me. What do you want? She asked rudely.

- Mrs Pignouf, I am Tom Riddle. I sent you a letter to request a meeting and you invited me to come today.

- Oh, yes! Please, forgive me, there's so much to do... I'd forgotten. Please, come in, come in..."

She led Tom in a tiny room, full of furniture overflowing with paperwork. There were shelves against all the walls and, in the center, stood a rectangular wooden desk surronded by three unmatching chairs. Tom sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk while Mrs Pignouf sat behind it, facing him.

" - As I explained in my letter, I came to talk to you about one of the orphans living here, Rosemary Potter, and about some arrangements that were made years ago about her future.

- Are you family? Inquired Mrs Pignouf, surprised.

- No, I am a teacher. Miss Potter's parents signed their daughter up in our school upon birth.

- Really? Why would they do such a thing?

- You see, Mrs Pignouf, Hogwarts, the school I teach at, is very selective and only some people from a certain _class_ can be enrolled. Both Mrs and Mr Potter were pupils in Hogwarts and they both wished for their daughter to receive the same kind of _upstanding_ education that they, themselves, received.

- I see, murmured Mrs Pignouf. Am I to understand that Miss Potter belongs to the aristocracy?

- Quite. I was wondering, Tom said, could you, perhaps, tell me more about Miss Potter?

- I'm not sure, stated Pignouf, suddenly suspicious. What proof do I have that you really are who you say you are?"

Tom had had enough. He took his wand and pointed it in the direction of a now bewildered looking Mrs Pignouf. A strange purple light escaped from it and hit the woman, which blinked while Tom put the wand away.

- I'm...I'm sorry. What were you saying? The director inquired.

- I was asking you wether or not you could tell me more about my future pupil.

- Oh! Oh, right... Well, Rosemary came to us four years ago, after the death of her remaining family in a car accident. The poor dear, she was the only survivor. She's a pretty thing, see, and a quiet girl. Always has been. It's understandable, mind you, considering... But, anyway, as I said, she is a quiet girl, rather kind, from what I can tell. She is very smart, too! Very, very smart! She is always at the top of her class and spends her time her nose burried in one book or another. And she's polite, very well-behaved.

- So, there has never been anything strange about her, she has never caused any trouble?...

- Well, for a time, I think she was being bullied. There were several accidents... Very unpleasant and we tried to find out who was responsible, but... Well, at any rate, it stoped happening at least two years ago, so... It's really not a problem anymore. She _is_ somewhat of a peculiar girl. I mean, she is always in her room, and does not play outside with the other orphans. The only times we see her in the courtyard, it's when she is siting behind the big yew tree, over there."

Mrs Pignouf pointed her finger in the general direction of the courtyard, out her window, where the tree was clearly visible.

- I see. So she is not a problem child, is she?

- Oh no! Most definitely not! She's a sweet thing, really, odd, perhaps, and shy, but very polite and well-behaved. Do you wish to go and meet her?

- Quite, Tom answered, rising from is chair.

* * *

Standing in front of the plain wooden door of Rosy Potter's bedroom, alone as Mrs Pignouf had just left him, Tom raised a hand and knocked.


	3. Chapter 3: Of Magic and Pharaos

**Figlina Rosa Chronicles**

_Book 1_: Figlina Rosa et Fons Juventatis

_Chapter 3_: Of Fame and Blood

_Knock. Knock. Knock, _made Tom Riddle's fist against Rosemary's wooden bedroom door. A few seconds later, a muffled young and soft female voice was heard:

"Who is it?"

"My name is Tom Riddle, Miss Potter, and I am a professor from a special school. I was sent to invite you to become one of our pupils." Tom said in his smooth, deep baritone voice.

Another few seconds passed, during which the professor's ears perceived the sound of a chair moving against a soft surface and the distinct, if low, drumming of footsteps on a carpeted floor. Then, the doorknob turned and the door opened, revealing the slim figure of a ten year old girl, with long, wavy and shiny black hair that reached her elbows, a small and slightly humpy nose, a small mouth with full, pouty lips, high cheekbones softened by childhood fat, and big, almond shaped, bright green eyes surronded by long and curled black eyelashes that were her most prominent feature. And, right there, on her forehead, somewhat hidden by the bangs of the girl's long fringe, an Eoh shaped rune was engraved in what most people recognised as a lightning bolt scar.

"Come on in, then, professor", the girl said, politely stepping out of the way.

Tom was hardly surprised when he saw the cramped and spartan conditions in which lived the girl. At least, it looked liked the room was warm in winter and the children were properly fed, which had not been the case in his time. But then again, the muggle world had changed considerably since the nineteen thirties and England was not constently under fire from aerial attacks. The girl had it much easier.

Back straight, he elegantly entered the room and sat himself on the uncomfortable bed, as the only chair in the room was much too small for him. The bed which was covered by a beige quilt and white pillow creaked under his weight. There was an iron wardrobe facing him and on his right, under the window, stood a small desk in poor condition and a wooden chair, which Rosemary took hold of and dragged accross the white carpet before sitting down in front of him. The fact that the girl was sat four inches above his own seat did nothing to help the fact that Tom still towered over her.

* * *

Rosy sat herself on her chair and quietlty watched the man who had introduced himself as Tom Riddle, professor in a mysterious school. He was tall, taller than most men she had seen in her life, and slender. Surprisingly for a teacher, his deep black and wavy hair was kept long and pulled into a tight and low ponytail. His silk black suit and the two rings he bore on his left hand spoke of wealth and elegance, a notion only reinforced by his stance and his cultured accent. His high cheekbones chiseled his face and were surmonted by two onyx coloured eyes with a piercing gaze. He had an acquiline nose and a mouth with full lips that might have been effeminate in anyone else's face. He was, all in all, a very handsome and highly intimidating man.

"So...Sir, you said you were a professor, but what do you teach?" Rosy asked, breaking the silence.

" That, miss Potter, is precisely why I am here".

Rosy's eyebrows rose. She was getting confused over his non-answer but decided not to impolitely interrupt him, no matter how much she wished to.

" The first thing you have to know is that I teach at a very special and prestigious school called Hogwarts, yes, miss Potter, _Hogwarts_" he said after seeing her slight grimace of disgust at such an odd name, "and, I happen to be one of the Headmaster's Deputy, the other being Professor Minerva McGonagall."

Mr Riddle paused, and Rosy kept silent to show that she was paying attention, although she could not understand what the man wanted with her and why a prestigious school she had never heard of before had sent such an important member of the staff to talk to her. Besides which, he had yet to mention what he taught and what made his strange named school so special.

" Miss Potter, it seems the task has befallen me to tell you that you are a witch, and that Hogwarts is a school for magical children", Riddle announced before pausing again and waiting for her reaction.

Rosy's eyes widdened from shock. A school for magic? A real school that would teach her to use her abilities properly, without having to spend months working and failing before being able to actually do something?! It sounded marvelous! And there would be other children like her, she would not have to be the odd one ever again. She might even be able to make friends! But...

" How do you know that I have magic?" she asked, frowning.

Tom Riddle frowned as well.

" You are not surprised to learn that magic is real?"

" No, I've known for some time, but I didn't know there was a school for people like me. But how do _you_ know?"

" It's quite simple, miss Potter. For one, your parents were magical themselves and enrolled you in Hogwarts upon your birth. Secondly, we, as in the magical government, have a way to know when and where magic is being used and, thirdly, you, miss Potter are a special case. "

" A special case, sir?" Rosy asked, forgetting for a brief moment that Mr Riddle had mentioned a _government_ of all things.

" You are famous, miss Potter. At least, in our world, you are, and no one would ever dare to pretend that you, of all children, are unable to produce magic."

Rosemary's eyes widdened once more. _Famous _?! How? Why? When did this happen and _what _happened? How come _she_ had not known before and why, if she was famous, had she been stuck with the Dursleys and then at the orphanage?

"Famous how?" she inquired in a shrill voice.

Riddle winced slightly at the sound, but otherwise kept his composure.

" To answer your question, miss Potter, I will need to give you some information about the magical world's History. "

Forgetting politness, Rosy interrupted:

" You keep mentioning the magical world, and you said earlier there was a government. What does it mean?"

His lips pinched from annoyance at being rudely interrupted but as it was the first offence, he ignored it and answered:

"Miss Potter, just as muggles, who happen to be the non-magical people of the world, have governments, towns, shops, schools, laws, and so on, so do, in fact, witches and wizards, the magical men", he said when he saw she was about to ask what a wizard was. "In reality, there are two completly different and mostly independant worlds sharing this planet, the muggle one, and the hidden magical one.

Now, to go back to what I was saying before you interrupted", Rosy blushed under the admonition,"About twenty five years ago, the Egyptian Minister of Magic, a so called Lord Sesostris, became a dictator, or a _Pharao_", Riddle sneered at the title, "as he called himself. He started one of the biggest conflict known to the wizarding world, when he conquered Italy and Italy's international allies, Spain and Greece, intervened. In ten years Sesostris forged himself a magical empire composed of all the countries around the Mediterranean see, apart from France, for it is, today still, allied to America and Russia both, as are England and Germany. The only one known to have defeated Sesostris is another Dark Lord, not as politically powerful, but english: Lord Voldemort. You might also hear people call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as most are so terrified of his power that they cannot bear to say his name. Sesostris, however, survived the Battle of Prague – where he and Voldemort fought – by fleeing. But, you see, miss Potter, Sesostris was still a very powerful wizard and remained in power, gaining more and more land, expanding his empire until suddenly, unexplainably, he was killed on Halloween nineteen eighty-one by nothing more than a baby. And that baby, miss Potter, was you."

Rosy, who had been enthralled in the tale, froze. _Her_? How could she have defeated a man who made Hitler look like a child?! According to what she understood, that Sesostris fellow was on par with Napoleon, or Alexander the Great or even Julius Cesar! His empire had lasted for over fifteen years, and would probably have lasted much longer if it had not been for her. If she really had defeated the man, no matter how unwillingly, then it was no wonder she was famous. Her throat dried as she thought over what Riddle had said. Halloween nineteen eighty-one. That was the day her parents had died in a car crash, supposedly. But, it did not make sense anymore.

"He killed my parents, didn't he?" she asked.

" Yes, he did. And from what we can gather, he tried to kill you too, but his curse failed somehow and bounced back, killing him instead and leaving you with that scar on your forehead. You are the Girl-Who-Lived"

Automatically, Rosemary's right hand rose up and she brushed her lightening bolt scar with the tip of her fingers. So that was how she'd gotten it. She had always thought that it was an odd scar to receive in car accident.

"But sir, why did Sesostris attack my parents? I mean, if he did not have anything to do with England, why go after them?"

"No one really knows", the professor answered. "Your parents were well-known opposants of Lord Voldemort, Sesostris's rival, and the reason why he went after them of all people is one of the many mysteries surronding that night."

"My parents opposed Voldemort? But why? Who's Voldermort, exactly? I mean, what does he want?" Rose asked eagerly, her inquisitive mind working fast under the enormous load of new information.

"_Lord_ Voldemort", Riddle emphasised the Lord part of the title, "is a Dark Lord still in activity, although his appearances are rare. He is a partisan of blood-purity, and believes in the superiority of wizards and witches over the muggles. "

"Blood-purity? Rosemary asked, frowning. "What does that mean?"

"It means, miss Potter, that one born of magical parents, or one born in an old magical family, should be entitled to prvileges that others, such as muggle-born children, do not have. Half-bloods, which is the term used to designate people who come from both worlds, like you as your mother was muggleborn, are tolerated by blood purists as they still have old magical blood in their veins. What you have to understand is that pure-bloods, at least a most of them, are the magical equivalent of the aristocracy and many old families have developped certain specific powers that can not be learned, powers that one can only have through blood. And _that_ is where their belief in the superiority of pure-blooded wizards and witches stems from. But Hogwarts doesn't encourage blood purity ideals, as it accepts all sorts and treats all pupils equally. Speaking of Hogwarts, I still have to explain its workings to you."

" Oh, right! So, sir, what do you teach? You never got to tell me!"

" I, miss Potter, teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a very useful if difficult and dangerous ", Riddle took something from an inner pocket in his jacket before holding some bit of strange looking paper out, "take your letter, it will explain better than I".

Rosemary took the letter - that she had not even known existed until professor Riddle mentioned it – from the big svelte and spidery hands of the man. The enveloppe was rather eccentric in her opinion, or maybe the best term was old-fashioned as it was made from what she guessed to be some kind of parchment and was sealed by a circular spot of red wax impressed with a capital H. She turned the heavy missive in her own, small hands and saw an address written in emerauld ink in a handwriting that reminded her of pictures from medieval books. The address read:

_Miss R. Potter,_

_The Twelveth Room in the Girls Dormitory,_

_Lady Diana's Orphan Asylum,_

_38, Gower's Walk_

_Whitechapel,_

_London E1_

Rosemary's eyebrows both went up when she read the precision – useless, she thought – of the address. If she had not known that magic was involved, she might have believed that professor Riddle was a stalker. Luckily, he had not tried to offer her any sweets, as her teachers in primary school said that those sorts of men tried to do.

Curiously and meticulously, she once more turned the letter around and broke the wax seal. There were several sheets of parchment inside and she took them out before unfolding them and reading the first one:

_**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**_

_**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore** _

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours Sincerly_

_Minerva McGonagall Tom _

_Deputy Headmistress Deputy Headmaster _

"Sir, what does it mean, "we await your owl"?" Rosy asked, confused.

"It means, miss Potter, that you have to confirm you enrollement on parchment, by sendind a letter back to Hogwarts. We use owls to carry our mail."

"All right then, but how am I gonna send a letter when I don't have an owl."

"Do not worry about that, as a muggle raised student, your word will be enough. You _are_ going to Hogwarts, are you not?"

"Of course I am!" Rosy replied enthousiastically, barely restraining herself from jumping up and down at the prospect of attending a magical school. "How could I not? I love magic!"

"Yes, about that, how exactly did you know that magic was real?" professor Riddle asked.

Rosy bit her lower lip anxiously. She had never told anyone about her abilities. Nervously, she got up from her chair and started pacing, thinking. After all, Riddle was magical, too. Surely, what she could do was normal. But then, why did he ask how she knew about magic? Could she really risk telling him? Biting her lip once more, she made up her mind. She took a deep breath and said:

"I've always been able to do strange things. I guessed it must be magic, because, what else could it be?"

"Do strange things, you say?" Tom asked.

" Yes", Rosy replied, still nervous.

"What sorts of things? Can you give me some examples?" Riddle asked smoothly, his deep and velvety voice holding a hint of curiousity and perhaps, even, a bit of excitement.

"Well, I can move things, with my mind. I don't have to touch them, just... I just have to _want_ them to move, you know?"

Riddle nodded, his dark gaze more piercing, keener than she had seen it in the entire interview. His face, that had looked mostly cold, bored, or completly indifferent until that point now bore a mask of fasination. But it did not last long, for, as though he had been a boy caught red-handed, as soon as he seemed to realise that his contenance actually reflected his emotions, the mask of fascination was replaced by a mask of feined interest. Faintly, he nodded, showing that he indeed knew what she talked about and prompted her to go on.

"I can feel what other people are feeling, most times...But not you, strangely..."

Rosy thought on that, frowning. She had been too distracted to notice, before, but that might be why she couldn't read Riddle's expressions as well as she could other people. He just was not an expressive man and she had not even received an inkling of his emotions through her gift. She wanted to know if he was doing something to block her from his mind, but she did not dare ask.

"I can, I think I can _teleport_", she said not sure of term to use.

At this, Riddle's carefully crafted expression crumbled slightly as his eyes widdened in surprise.

"You can apparate?" he asked brusquely and somewhat disbelievingly.

"What's "apparate"?"

"It is a magical ability that allows a wizard or a witch to move from one place to another instantanously. And it is taught at Hogwarts only to experienced students who have reached their majority."

"Really?" Rosy asked, excited once more that she could do something so difficult. It had taken her over a year to succed, after all, and she had always been quite proud of that particular skill. "Well, yes, then, I think I can apparate."

"Show me!" Riddle commanded harshly.

Rosy, not paying attention to her future professor's tone, proud as she was of her skill, eagerly asked:

"Where do I go?"

"Just walk to the door and apparate near your desk."

Rosy, a smile stretching her lips, walked joyously to the door and concentrated. She closed her eyes and felt the typical squeezing sensation take hold of her. Not a second later she was standing next to her desk, beaming at her success.

"Impressive", Riddle muttered, "Very well, then. Now that I know of your unusual abilities, you might as well read the rest of your letter. I don't have all day."

Hurt at his dismissal and harsh behaviour, Rosy forced herself to obey the handsome man. He _had_ complimented her, after all. She grabbed her letter once more and took the second parchement. It read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WHICHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

UNIFORM

_First-year students will require:_

_ sets of plain work robes (black)_

_ plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_ pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_ winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad._

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

"Er, sir, how am I gonna by all that stuff? I mean, I don't have any money and I don't even know where to buy all those things."

"You do not have to worry about such things, miss Potter. I will be accompanying you tomorrow to get your equipment in Diagon Alley. And your parents left you with more than enough money."

"Diagon Alley, sir?"

"Yes, it is a hidden part of London reserved for the magical world where shops of all sorts have established their buisness. Coincidentally, it is also where Gringotts, the wizarding bang of Britain, stands. You will be able to access your parents money when we go there tomorrow."

Rosy felt excited once more. A whole part of London hidden and reserved for magical people? It ought to be awesome!

"But, sir, why do I need a _wand_?"

"Miss Potter, while you may be able to do some magic without the help of a wand, it does not mean that every witch or wizard is capable of the same feat. You will need a wand, no matter what, to achieve most spells and transfiguration as it helps to focus your power and drive your intent. Besides, the use of a wand requires far less magic than a wandless spell and is far less exhausting."

Rosy, eyes bright, asked eagerly:

"And I'm gonna get one tomorrow?"

"Obviously, as it is part of your equipment!" Riddle snapped impatiently. "Now, can I get going or do you have any more questions?"

"No sir, it's fine. I don't have anymore questions."

"Very well, then. I will come and you tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, sharp. Be ready when I'm here."

"Yes sir", Rosemary answered.

She watched as the tall handsome and cold man got up from her bed, which creaked, and left her room. Magic! She was a with and would be going to a magical school in September! Life was looking up!

* * *

**AN: I apologise for the wait but I'm having exams till July, so that takes precedence. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter and review... **


	4. Chapter 4: Shopping With Lord Slytherin

**Figlina Rosa Chronicles**

_Book 1_: Figlina Rosa et Fons Juventatis

_Chapter 4:_ Shopping with Lord Slytherin

The tall and slender man appeared out of nowhere, holding the hand of a young girl, in the shadow of an enormous chequer tree. The girl looked around and noticed they were standing between the big green plant and a seven feet tall brick wall. No one had noticed their extraordinary arrival despite the loud _pop_ that had been produced by their sudden appearance.

The man let go of the girl's hand and stepped to the right, onto the lane of a pinkish building and the girl automatically followed him. He turned left, the high and bright morning sun hitting his back and lighting the way ahead, and threaded the paved path until he came across a large road full of cars.

The girl, who had stayed next to him all along, looked up and saw the street sign announcing that they now stood on "Charing Cross Road". Tom Riddle, the man, turned right, walking in the shadows of the buildings. Rosemary Potter, the girl, followed quietly, all the while watching everything that went on around her with great curiousity.

They walked before different sorts of shops, from book shops to fish and chips, including music shops and cinemas, but all of them looked very normal. None seemed to sell anything even remotely magical and the passers-by around them seemed extraordinarily ordinary. Suddenly, however, Riddle stopped.

"Here it is", he said, in his velveted and somewhat ensnaring voice. "_The Leaky Cauldron_, our doorway to the magical world."

Rosy looked at the small pub he was showing her. It looked really tiny and shabby, stuck between a book shop and a disk shop. If professor Riddle had not pointed it out, Rosy would have never noticed it. Indeed, no one else took notice of it and it seemed to Rosy that Riddle and her were the only ones capable of seeing it. Perhaps it _was_ magical, after all.

"Our doorway, sir?"she asked.

"Yes, you will find that this pub, no matter how decrepit it looks, is rather famous for its usefulness", Riddle replied before entering the pub, Rosy hurrying behind him to do the same.

Rosemary was surprised that the seemingly tiny pub was actually much bigger inside. Although, she did not think that a famous place ought to be as dark and _decrepit_, as Riddle had said, as the _Leaky Cauldron_ clearly was.

There were a few old women in strange looking dresses sat in a corner and sipping some kind of alcoholic drink. There were two men in scarlet dresses – or robes, Rosy guessed – eating breakfast together and talking quietly. Another man sat in the shadows, smoking a long pipe, while two small boys played on the floor, next to him. And a man stood behind the dark, wooden bar, his bald head shining like a glittering walnut. As soon as Rosemary and Riddle came in, the blurred sound of conversations halted. Everyone looked at Riddle and suddenly, people got up from their chairs and _bowed_.

Looking as though he was very much used to such treatment, Riddle merely noded once in acknowledgement. Slowly, people went back to their seats, their eyes still trained on the man. Rosy, who followed him closely, was looked upon once or twice but quickly dismissed as unimportant.

"Goodmorning, Mr Balkon", Riddle said regally to the bald barman.

Smiling, the old man bowed once more.

"Lord Slytherin, always such an honor to see you at the _Leaky Cauldron_. Why, I still remember the first time you came through the door as a boy an..."

"That will be all, Mr Balkon", Riddle, or Lord Slytherin as Rosy now knew him, inturrupted rather rudely. "I am here on Hogwarts business and I am in quite a hurry. Good day".

He did not wait for an answer and dragged a very curious Rosemary out of the pub, leading them into a small, brick walled courtyard where there was nothing but a few weeds and a trash can. He then walked over to one of walls and took out a long and thin pale wooden wand.

"Look at what I'm doing, you will have to do it on your own, from now on", he told Rosy.

"Yes sir", Rosy said, now paying close attention to the tall man's actions.

He started counting the bricks above the trash can and enounciated loudly:

"Three up and two across, and now...", he stopped talking and instead chose to tap the chosen brick three times with his wand.

The brick quivered and wriggled and, suddenly, in the middle, a small hole appeared. The oppening grew wider and wider until they were facing an archway large enough for an elephant to pass; an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"And this, miss Potter, is Diagon Alley", Riddle exclaimed smugly.

Rosemary had never been more amazed in her life. As soon as they stepped through the archway, it shrunk back into a solid shining red wall. Rosy looked everywhere while the professor led them to the bank. She wished she could be a spider and have four pairs of eyes. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. "Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible", said a sign hanging over them. But soon, they had passed the shop and something else caught her attention.

A young man outside an Apothecary was shaking his head as they passed, saying:

"Ridiculous! Those prices are just ridiculous!"

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying "Eeylops Owl Emporium: Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. " Farther away, a group of teenaged boys had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.

"Look," Rosy heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever - "

There were shops selling what she now recognised as robes, shops selling shiny telescopes and strange and complicated silver instruments Rosy had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, giant tottering piles of spell books, multicoloured quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon, maps of the stars...

"We're here", professor Riddle said. "This is Gringotts, also known in official matters as the W-Buk, the Wizarding Bank of the United Kingdom."

"Wow", was the only word that came from Rosy's lips as she took in the most impressive sight before her.

There, in all its luxurious splendor, an enormous snow white building towered over the other shops. In a uniform of scarlet and gold, two goblin guards stood beside its burnished bronze doors. The goblins were about a head shorter than Rosy. They had swarthy, clever faces, pointed beards and, the girl noticed, very long fingers and feet. They both bowed when the professor and the orphan girl walked inside.

Facing them was a second pair of doors, silver this time, with verses engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"I would heed that warning, in your place", said Riddle. "The goblins are not creatures to be taken lightly and they have been allowed by the ministry to take all the measures they deem necessary in order to guard our gold. In Gringotts, thieves die gruesome deaths."

Rosy's eyes widened and she gulped. Not that she had ever thought of stealing anything from the place. But still! Goblins sounded scary.

"Yes sir", she answer. "I understand".

Another pair of goblins in uniform bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long and high counter, scribbling in large leathery ledgers, weighing strange coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through big eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Riddle and Rosy made for the counter.

"Hello", professor Riddle said coldly to a free goblin. "We need to take some money from miss Potter's vault. Here is her key."

He reached inside his suit and held out a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order. I will call someone to take you down to the vault. Steelclaw!"

Steelclaw was yet another Goblin. He took them to one of the doors leading off the hall. He then held the door open for them. Rosemary, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Steelclaw whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Rosy tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible; the bank's underground was nothing less than a maze. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Steelclaw wasn't steering.

"Slow down, by Salazar!" Riddle cursed.

Steelclaw looked at the man viciously, but slowed the cart's speed until the cold air of the caves stopped stinging their eyes. Rosy, grateful for Riddle's intervention as she had been feeling slightly sick, kept on looking around. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage but could not pinpoint its source. They plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

Rosy gasped.

"It's the first time I see those for real!" she exclaimed enthousiastically.

"What?" snapped Riddle.

"The stalactites and stalagmites! They're so impressive! But I think I like the stalactites better, they look more magical, hanging off the ceiling like that."

Riddle said nothing and merely rolled his eyes in exasperation. Rosy pouted. The man could really be a pain, she thought. No matter what she did or said, he always looked so haughty!

The cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall. Rosy got out but Riddle stayed put. She almost asked if he was coming but held her tongue. He obviously was not. Steelclaw unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Rosemary gasped. Inside were mounds of gold, silver and bronze coins of different sizes. And she instinctively knew, it was all hers.

"Don't look so impressed, girl. This is just a trust vault. You'll be able to access your family vault upon your majority." Riddle said in a bored and still captivating voice.

Rosy blinked.

"Really?" she asked.

"Are you taking me for a liar?!"

"No sir, I was just surprised."

Riddle shook his head and Rosy payed attention once more to her vault.

"How much do I need for my school things?" she asked the goblin, ignoring Riddle's presence.

"Fifty-five Galleons is the minimum", Steelclaw sneered at her.

"Er, what are Galleons? Actually, what's the currency?" Rosy asked as she looked upon the unfamiliar coins.

The goblin emitted a strange sound, reminding her of a growl. But he replied.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

"Thank you".

Rosemary entered the vault and grabbed a pouch laying on one of the coins mound. She stuffed about seventy golden coins in it and took a handful of sickles and knuts that she put in her jeans pockets.

"I'm done", she anounced.

"Come on back into this infernal cart, then, so that we may be off" Riddle told her.

"We will start by getting your uniforms and potions ingredients", said Riddle, nodding his head towards a shop called _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions_. "You will get your clothes and I, in the meantime, will go to the apothecary. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir", Rosy answered, somewhat disappointed that she would not get to see the strange and mysterious contents of a magical apothecary.

They walked down the paved and winding crowded alley, heading for Madam Malkin's. As Rosy made to enter the shop, Riddle, after hesitating a moment, put a strong and spidery hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"I suggest, considering your _status_ in our world, that you get yourself at least a small wizarding wardrobe if you do not wish to be mocked by your peers. Your uniforms should be enough for most of the week, but you will still have to dress yourself on weekends and in the evening. "

Rosy looked searchingly at Riddle's attractive face, surprised that such consideration for her well-being had come from him. Finally, she replied:

"Thank you, sir. I'll do just that."

"Very well. I am off, then. Wait for me to return before leaving the shop.

"Yes, sir."

And he left, his long legs allowing him to take impressive strides and people respectfully stepping out of his way. Once he disappeared in the crowd, Rosy entered the shop.

At first glance, it appeared to be empty. There were many racks of different sorts of robes arranged seemingly without order. There was a rack of spangled dress robes for women next to a rack of small pastel robes for small children followed by a rack of long black robes for potioneers and another rack of dress robes, spangle-less this time. Above each rack stood a wooden sign indicating the sort of robes hanged there and the average price.

"Hello there, dear. Hogwarts robes? "

Rosy jumped and turned around. A squat, smiling red-headed witch stood behind her clothed all in turquoise.

"Madam Malkin?" Rosemary asked.

"Why! Of course, who else, dear? So, Hogwarts?"

"Oh! Er, yeah. But I need a couple of robes for everyday wear and one or two sleeping gowns. Oh, and maybe undergarments, too."

"Very well, darling. Here, get on a stool over there and we'll get you measured."

Madam Malkin led Rosy to the back of the shop, behind a blue screen where a couple of stools stood. Rosy got up on one of them and undressed under Madam Malkin's directions. Standing up there in her panties and undershirt, Rosy suddenly felt ridiculous. But Madam Malkin obviously knew what she was doing as she lost no time in taking all sorts of measurements.

"Now, dear, raise your right arm... Bend your knees... raise your leg... stand straight...don't move..."

At last, satisfied with the measurements taken, Madam Malkin said:

"Come here dear, and chose the clothes you like best. I will get your Hogwarts uniforms in the meantime."

Rosy ended up with plain white and black wizarding undergarments, two cream and one sky blue nightgown and two ordinary robes in purple and emerauld green. As Madam Malkin started making adjustements to her Hogwarts uniforms, another girl, blonde, came in.

Rosy immediatly noticed her wealthy wizarding attire. She wore a short summer purple robe with silver embroidery lining the collar and short, airy sleeves and a silky silvery cloak. Her feet were set in an elegant pair of greek sandals and her right wrist was adorned with a silver snake bracelet. Pink earrings representing small clusters of flowers hang from her ears and a purple ribbon was tied around her neck. The blonde girl's hair was tied in a french braid and her clear blue eyes were shadowed by long and curly lashes. Her back was strait and her very stance seemed to scream "aristocracy."

A wave of envy ran over Rosemary's heart at the sight of the girl who was everything she wished she could be. Quickly, she squashed it down, not wanting to make an enemy out of her. She wanted to make friends, she reminded herself.

"Hello" Rosy greeted the blonde as the other girl got up on the stool beside hers. "Are you going to Hogwarts too?"

"Yes", the girl answered in a clear voice and cultivated tone. "This is my first year. What about you?"

"Same. I'm rather excited, actually. I'm anxious to find out what house I'm gonna end up in", Rosy replied, encouraged by the other girl's enquiry.

"So am I. I'd like to be in Slytherin, or maybe Ravenclaw. My mother was in Ravenclaw, but most of my family went to Slytherin. Besides, can you imagine having Lord Slytherin as your Head of House? That would be wonderful!" the blonde girl exclaimed excitedly.

"Professor Riddle? Would you like to meet him?" Rosy asked.

"Of course! Who wouldn't?"

"Well then, maybe you'll get your wish sooner than you think", Rosy said mischieviously, relieved that the wealthy girl was friendly enough.

"What do you...?"

But the girl's question was interrupted by Madam Malkin's voice.

"Here, dear, all finished. Would you care to wait a bit before I wrap your robes up? Miss Greengrass robes should already be ready. I just have to make sure no adjustments are needed."

"Of course, Madam", Rosy said, while taking her robe off.

Madam Malkin grabbed it and put it over the pile of Rosemary's new clothes, on the counter of the shop, before disappearing in an another room, at the back of the shop.

"I'm Daphne Greengrass", the blonde girl said at last, holding out her pale and manicured right hand. "Nice to meet you."

Rosy, still in her undergarments after shedding the Hogwarts uniform, felt incredibly akward as she shook Daphne's hand and introduced herself.

"It's nice to meet you too. I'm Rosemary Potter."

Daphne immediatly let go of her hand and gasped. Her blue eyes rounded as she stared and finally looked at the orphan girl's scarred forehead.

"Great Merlin! I can't believe it! You're really her!"

"Well... Yeah."

"I thought for a moment you were just pulling my wand. But you're really her. It's really great to meet you!" Daphne said once more, obviously excited to have befriended a celebrity.

Thankfully, at that moment, Madam Malkin walked back in, carrying a set of Hogwarts uniforms.

"Here, Miss Greengrass, could you please try these on?"

Rosy breathed a sigh of relief, definitely not used to her fame, and put her clothes back on while Daphne striped and put on her Hogwarts robe, which fit perfectly.

"It seems you won't need any adjustments, Miss Greengrass. Here, you can get off the stool and wait in the main area while I wrap both sets of robes, girls."

Rosy got down on the floor and waited for Daphne to get dressed again, noticing the girl stealing glances at her from time to time. Silently, the both of them walked back to therfront of the shop, examining absentmindedly the clothes hanging from the different racks.

"Hey, Rosy! I can call you Rosy, right?" Daphne exclaimed suddenly.

"Sure"

"Well, what did you mean when you said I'll be getting my wish sooner than I thought?"

"What?"

"You know, when we were talking about Lord Slytherin."

"Oh, right. Well, he's the one who's accompanying me to get my school things, today."

Daphne gasped once more.

"_Really?_"

Rosy was sure that had she not been raised as an aristocrat, the girl would have been jumping up and down from excitement, by now.

"Yeah, really. I mean, he _is_ a teacher, after all."

"But he's so great! A genius, really! My father says that he's even more powerful than Dumbledore, what with his Duelling victories and magical discoveries. And my mother says he's filthy rich! And he's so handsome, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah, he's handsome, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, he's a bit..."

"A bit what?"

"He's kinda cold and a bit of an ass, to be honest."

Daphne looked momentarily striken. But she brightened soon enough.

"Well, it's part of his charm! I mean, can you imagine how much harassment he has to put up with, between journalists, women and politics? He must be so stressed! Poor man!"

"Yeah, probably..."

Rosy had to force herself not to roll her eyes at Daphne's obvious crush.

" Anyway, it's impressive."

"What?"

"Well, the fact that he's taking you to take your school things, of course. He's so busy. But then again, being who you are, I guess it's excepted."

"If you say so".

"Here girls, all ready", Madam Malkin called out cheerily.

"Oh, well, I guess I must be off, then." Daphne said disappointedly. "I promised mother to get back to _Flourish and Blotts_ as soon as I got my robes."

"Ok then, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I guess."

"Of course. I'll save you a seat in the Hogwarts Express!"

"Thanks.

"Bye, Rosy"

"Bye, Daphne", Rosemary answered, somewhat relieved by the other girl's departure. As nice as she was, she could be rather _intense_.

"Here we are", Riddle said coldly as they got to Ollivanders.

The shop that now stood before them looked decrepit with its dirty showcase and tatty paint. Over the wooden door, peeling gold letters announced: _Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands_ _since 382 BC. _Riddle pushed the door open and led Rosy inside, causing a bell to ring somewhere in the depths of the otherwise ominously silent shop. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Rosy sat on to wait for Mr Ollivander to make an appearance. Rosy felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her, not wanting Riddle to utter yet another sarcastic comment and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with mystery and carried the unmistakable feel of magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Rosy jumped and quickly got off the spindly chair.

"Ollivander" aknowledged Riddle, noding in the direction of the voice.

Rosy looked up and found herself standing in front of an old man with a curly cloud of white hair and wide silver eyes that glimed in the darkness of the shop like moons in the night.

"Hello", she said awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Rosemary Potter." It was a statement. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. I hear she was quite gifted in that area."

Ollivander moved closer to Rosy and took her chin in his left hand, lifting her head and examining her. Rosemary wished he would blink and look at anything but her. The old man and his gliming silver eyes were more than a bit creepy.

"You look like your father, child._ He_ favored a mahogany wand.Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

He released her head and brought his hand to her forehead, lightly tracing her scar.

"Ollivander!" called Riddle sharply. "We are here to get the girl a wand of her own, not to gossip about irrelvant matters!"

Rosy felt a gush of relief pass through her and unexpectedly felt grateful for Riddle's presence.

Ollivander turned to face the Lord and, for the first time aknowledging the presence of the man, said:

" Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin, undefeated dueling world champion, order of Merlin first class, thrice, discoverer of the cure to the dragon pox and the rejuvenating properties of augurey tail feathers, maker of the fount..."

"That is enough, Ollivander!"

"Yes, yes, of course. But, I must say, I am quite pleased with your stuning use of your -and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very , now. Miss Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Rosy swallowed under the man's scrutiny.

"Er...I am right-handed, sir."

"Well then. Hold out your arm. That's it" He measured Rosy from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Rosy suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Miss Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Rosemary took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try..."

Rosemary tried - but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Rosy tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere."

He paused, his moonly eyes shifting to observe Riddle before going back to her.

"I wonder... Yes, yes, why not..." He muttered. "It would make sense. I never thought... But the legend _does _say... "

Riddle cleared his throat loudly, clearly annoyed, although he now sported a slight thoughtful frown.

"Here, try this one – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Rosy took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers and recognised the feeling of her magic coursing in her veins, readying itself to be used. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and felt the warmth leave her fingers and enter the wand. A black cloud speckled by a stream of red and silver sparks shot from the end like a firework, dancing above their heads like a tiny stary night sky. Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "

He put Rosy's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..

Rosemary gathered her courage and asked:

"Sorry, but what's curious?"

"I would also like to know", spoke Riddle, still frowning.

Ollivander eyed them both, a strange spark lighting his wide and gleaming eyes.

"I remember every wand I have ever sold, Miss Potter, Lord Slytherin. Every single wand, and most particularly those wands I know are extraordinary, those wands that are, quite simply put, capable of wonders. It so happens that Lord Slytherin's wand belongs to that particular category, and so does yours, Miss Potter. In fact, the phoenix whose tail feather resides in Mr Riddle's wand gave another feather, just one other, for one other wand; and it is curious to learn that that other wand has now chosen _you, _Miss Potter, as its master. It seems that we can expect great things from you, Miss Potter. "

Ollivander glanced at Riddle who was now observing Rosy with piercing eyes.

" Great things indeed".

"Get in here, Potter."

Rosy complied and followed her future teacher into a new shop, full of trunks of all sorts. There were bags on a shelf in the back and what looked like tents in a cellar.

Riddle looked around and walked toward one of the trunks, one with small wheels.

"Here" he said, "this is the standard trunk for Hogwarts students. The inside is enlarged and it has a feather-weight charm on it. This one will do."

"Feather-weight charm, sir?"

"Yes, girl!" he snapped. "Think about the name and you will know exactly what it does!"

Riddle quickly paid for the trunk, saying he did not wish to wait for Rosy to count the coins and pay for it herself before they were off to eat a warm meal in the Leaky Cauldron.

The meal was spent in silence, Riddle's mood even worse than it had been in the morning after their visit at Ollivander's. Rosy wondered what she could really have in common with the irrascible man for her wand to have chosen her. Surly, they wer nothing alike. For one, she was a girl! She did not think it mattered much, but still! And he was completly antisocial, not that she had many friends, but at least, she made an effort to be polite.

After the meal, Riddle went to get her her quills, ink and parchements while he let her in get her books in _Flourish and Blotts_, her new favourite shop. She had had no trouble getting her school books as they had already been ready. Apparently, Hogwarts communicated their lists of school books to the shop which, in turn, prepared the piles of books in advance for Hogwarts students.

While waiting for Riddle to join her, Rosy had had the time to browse the shelves and had been amazed at all the things one could do with magic. In the end, she had bought three extra books: _Hogwarts: A History_, _Lady Selwyn's Guide Of Proper Wizarding Etiquette_ and _Potions For Dunderheads_, which was a very well explained potion manual for beginners while she had noticed that _Magical Drafts and Potions_, the assigned book, was nothing more than a recipe book.

"There it is, Miss Potter. And do hurry, I would very much enjoy going back to Slytherin Manor before night fall".

"Yes, sir" Rosy replied, ignoring the fact that nightfall was still at least five hours away.

Ten minutes later, Rosy exited _Eyelops Eye Emporium_ with a magnificent Greater Sooty Owl, wich she had immediatly fallen in love with. She had named him Astraeus, for the greek titan lord of the stars. She was quite proud of the name and believed it suited the owl's plumage well.

Riddle apparated them back to the orphanage and gave her her train tickets.

"Here is your ticket for Hogwarts. Do _not_ lose it. "

"Platform 9 and 3/4?!" Rosy inquired after reading the little piece of parchment.

"Yes. All you have to do is walk through the wall between platform 9 and 10 and you will get there. Goodbye, Miss Potter."

And, just like that, he disappeared in a _crack_ , leaving the girl-who-lived to walk back to the orphanage with her owl and trunk on her own.


End file.
